


angel trap

by itllbeall-dwight (dupesoclock)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: (this is basically my 'fuck john kramer' mantra), Gen, Lots and Lots of Flowery Language, character study-adjacent, god theres so much. So much.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25049485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dupesoclock/pseuds/itllbeall-dwight
Summary: “You should always adapt to your environment and circumstances, Detective.”He looked over to her, and cocked his eyebrow. “Another one of Jigsaw’s mantra’s he forced onto you?”The Pig’s fingers wrapped against the counter of the bar. “One of the lessons he taught me.”--the detective is looking for an escape. the pig is looking for salvation.
Relationships: Amanda Young & David Tapp
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	angel trap

**Author's Note:**

> (has never seen saw because i fucking hate gore) Amanda young call me <3 <3
> 
> as a newly crowned pig main, i thought it would be nice for me to write a little piece so that Amanda can finally be happy. god this girl needs a hug and a positive male figure in her life.
> 
> part 1 of two, because ya know.. the angel trap has two key components. it has MEANING it has LAYERS look at me I'm so DEEP. KRAMER COME GET TH /j /j /j
> 
> kudos and comments appreciated, [Tumblr mirror here](https://itwillbeall-dwight.tumblr.com/post/622623087457927169/angel-trap). please feel free to send in asks for requests and hc's if you want there too! ily all

The creaking of old boots echoed behind her, slowly fading out of earshot, as finally, The Pig had been left alone, sitting at the bar of the Dead Dawg Saloon.

A sigh escaped her, reverberating around the inside of her mask, as she was finally left alone to reflect on her test. The Gideon Meat Plant was silent yet deafening, yet the being who cheated death had given it to her as a realm to reside in, while she continued its wishes. But it was not hers - it would never be hers. She wanted to break free, if only for a moment, and the silence of Glenvale was perfect to ease her screaming mind. Guilt, torment, suffering - visions of blood on her hands and screaming in her ears. Everything she had done, had wanted to do in the future. Feelings swirling around her chest, making her both dizzy and numb. She just wanted a drink.

“This seat taken?”

The sound of the strained, whispy voice startled her, looking up through the eyeholes of her mask to see the familiar face of Detective David Tapp looking down at her. From within the pig head, her nose curled. “Suppose it is.”

He pulled out the stool beside her and sat down, looking forward at the racks of dusty liquors residing behind the bar, cobwebs gathering along the necks and corks of the bottles. Tapping his fingers against the wood, he glanced down at the Pig slid her glass down to him with a slight motion, the cold glass nudging the back of his hand. 

Tapp took it with a quiet thank you, nodding and holding it up to her before he took a drink, recoiling a little. 

She chuckled, dryly. “Strong?”

“Old. Fits, but… nothing like I’m used to.”

“You should always adapt to your environment and circumstances, Detective.”

He looked over to her, and cocked his eyebrow. “Another one of Jigsaw’s mantra’s he forced onto you?”

The Pig’s fingers wrapped against the counter of the bar. “One of the lessons he taught me.”

He hummed, taking a drink, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling (he did not see, through the eyeholes of her mask, how she looked at the scar that stretched across his neck - analysing it, inquisitively, looking for flaws in her own technique that her mentor could still teach her, so far away).

“So what brings you here?” 

She despised small talk. What was there to say, she hated the crippling loneliness of being surrounded and trapped by her failures? She bit her tongue. “...Call it a vacation.”

“Can’t get any more exotic than this, huh? Good ol’... western.” Tapp gave a quiet chuckle, looking around the saloon before he leaned forward again, resting his arms against the bar and looking to the Pig. “Better than anything in NYC, I suppose.”

She huffed. “I suppose. ...Yourself?”

“...Oh, me? Investigating.” A pause as he took a drink. “Never hurts to try and look for a way out. Cracks in this hellhole, try and make sense of it all.”

Her eyes looked him up and down, as she folded her arms on the bar. “You never stop, do you, Detective?”

He laughed a little, almost self-aware of his tendency to fruitlessly obsess. “Can’t stop. If not for myself, then for the people here trapped, like you.”

“Because you have nothing to return to, so you continue to attempt to be selfless.”

“And you have something to return to, Amanda?” He looked over at her. She scowled out of his view.

“You don’t know me.” The Pig growled, low and animalistic, out a response after a brief pause to contemplate, slowly tilting her head as she looked over to him. “You did not live long enough to see how he guided me to salvation.”

Tapp paused, swallowing for a moment and looking down to his half-empty glass, before looking back up to the pig-headed killer. “You call it salvation, I call it brainwashing and torture.”

“He cared for me when your system thought of me as nothing more than a selfish addict and a helpless victim. He taught me life was worth living, had a purpose despite my digressions, and how people like me swindle their chance and don’t deserve it.”

“Deserve a chance at redemption, like you got? Thought that killing them was the best way to teach ‘em that?”

She fell silent. Tapping on the counter, faster now.

“They deserved as much of a chance as you got, surely.”

“You don’t understand anything about what he taught me-”

“Then help me!” Tapp leaned forward slightly, raising his voice enough to make her flinch. His hands gripped at the glass tightly. “Help me understand the way he twisted and turned you so badly that you turned into…”

The Pig looked up. “Into what, Detective? A monster? Is that what you want to call me?”

He gritted his teeth, and looked down to his glass, listening to her give another dry laugh.

“You’re nothing but a blind coward. A dead fool who thought for nothing significant.”

“A blind coward who wants justice for the people who you hurt… against the man who hurt you.”

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. But she bit her tongue. She would teach him, soon enough.

Silence fell between them now, the wind outside the saloon pushing and pulling on the doors outside, and the hooks that remained out of use, at least for now.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” She mused, glancing at him as he looked up at her. “Both you and I are stuck in our own game, a test of will. I suppose we’ll just have to see how wins, shall we?”

Tapp almost squinted, before he finished the last of his drink and placed the glass down with a quiet tap of wood against glass. Against the dusty, rotting floorboards, his stool squeaks, before he stood to his feet and pushed the chair back in again. “Guess so.”

She did not turn as the detective left, footsteps on the old floorboards echoing through the tall saloon ceiling, listening as he paused by the door. The world outside whistled with no wind, as if time itself stood still.

“Let me know if you finally want someone to listen to you, Amanda.” He called out to her, looking behind him with a hand on the open door. “I know no one else has.”

And with that, David Tapp fixed his hat, and resumed a wide sweep of Glenvale, to no avail. The Pig - no, her name was Amanda - remained seated, staring at the glass that had once been at that man's lips as he told her poison. She thought about this in silence, until that cowboy came back and forced her back to the meat plant.

The next time she saw Tapp - in the Yamaoka Estate, among shrubbery and wooden walls - she hunted him like prey, getting him down to the floor with ease and precision. He turned to look up at her, the determination in her eyes striking her for a moment before she sat on his chest, and gently traced the scar across his throat with the tip of her wrist blade. But she would not end his life yet.

She would show him baptism.


End file.
